


Payback

by pluto



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 13:03:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pluto/pseuds/pluto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An awkwardly timed phone call, a turian who can't wait, and a sweet, sweet bit of revenge. PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Payback

**Author's Note:**

> Kinkmeme fill: Shepard and Garrus were in the middle of some hot and heavy petting when she gets a call from the Council and has to put their fun on hold. Garrus is left entirely riled so he ends up starting things without her.
> 
> Shepard returns and catches him in the act and gives him a pleasantly torturous blowjob to 'punish' him for having fun without her. Would like this to be Garrus' first experience with a blowjob, and have ingestion not be an issue.
> 
> Points for Shep discovering that turian cum is actually sweet (science says so!) and loving it

Shepard's horny as fucking hell. There's no nicer way to put it.

There's no good reason for her to be this riled up. She's just gotten back from investigating an attack on a human factory for Anderson. There's vorcha blood all over her armor, she needs a goddamn shower, and she took a nasty hit that she should probably have Chakwas check out.

Instead, she's got Garrus backed up against the elevator doors, her tongue in his mouth, hands on his fringe, grinding armor to armor uselessly. He moans into her mouth when she digs her nails along the back of his skull.

"Are we there yet?" he practically begs, clutching her waist, already undoing the latches of her armor.

"You have not yet specified a destination, Mr. Vakarian."

"Shit," Shepard groans. "My quarters. Now, EDI."

Garrus has the lower half of her armor off, his fingers slipping between her thighs, rubbing at her through the thinner pressure suit underneath. She's wet as hell, soaking through the fabric; parts her legs and presses back against him.

"Still got some of that anti-anaphylaxis stuff Mordin gave you?"

Garrus nods against her neck, unable to stop nuzzling and licking her long enough to give any verbal answer.

"Good," she says. "When we get to the room I want you to--"

The elevator door whooshes open behind them and Garrus almost falls over, stumbling backward. They both laugh, parted just long enough to come together again with a clang of armor. She licks the line of his lower lip, making him pant,

"I have to get out of this armor. Now, Commander."

"Wait are you waiting for? A direct order?" She grins. "Strip, soldier," she snaps off, teasing. Watches him practically trip himself as he does so, even as she gets out of the rest of her own suit. As soon as he's undressed she practically pounces on him, herds him back into her bed. Shoves him back onto the mattress, but he catches her wrists as he falls, pulls her on top of him, chuckling. Bumps foreheads with her, then licks a long line starting at her parted lips, over the curve of her throat, down into the hollow of her collarbone.

"Now what were you saying you wanted, Shepard?" he asks, all mischief, because he knows exactly what she wants.

She wants to feel that tongue lower, wants to hold his head between her thighs, grip his fringe as he tastes her. He gropes towards her night table for the hypo from Mordin. The hiss of the injection makes her wetter still, as if her body has been trained to anticipate the pleasure to come. Feels him nudge a knuckle between her legs, rub against her slick flesh, the swollen nub of her clit.

"You finally going to let me return the favor tonight?" she breathes, rubbing herself against his hand, pressing down so that he almost slips inside her. His own breathing gets heavier; eagerness, nervousness, she can't tell. "You know, I should be the one with issues about teeth in sensitive places."

Instead of answering he distracts her, makes a slow circle against her clit as he draws her down, mouth-plates to lips, flicks his tongue against her soft mouth, like a promise. "Fine," she laughs, when she can breathe again. "But I'll get you some day." She shifts position, lets him nip and nuzzle his way down her body as she climbs higher onto the mattress, until she's straddling his face. She feels his hands grip the inside of her thighs and she shivers. She feels his warm breath against her, feels the first lap of his tongue against her--

"Commander, you have an incoming message."

Kelly's voice jolts them both apart; she feels the slight burn where Garrus's talons have lightly scored her. Shepard bites back a _goddamnit Yeoman_ and instead says, "Tell them to call back, Kelly."

"Sorry, Commander, but they say it's urgent."

"It's really not a good time."

"It's the Council. Anderson."

Shepard groans, reaching down with a hiss to touch her aching, needy flesh. She really can't turn down this call. Garrus shakes his head at Shepard and mouths something, but she can't exactly lip-read Turian.

"Give me a minute," she says, reluctantly moving off of Garrus. "I just got out of the shower."

"Sure thing," Kelly says, sounding all too smug for Shepard's liking.

"C'mon, Shepard," Garrus says, as soon as Kelly's off the line. "Let them wait." He pulls himself up on the bed, propping against the wall. Spreads his legs obscenely. She swears at him as she sees his guard-plates are fully retracted, and he takes himself in hand. He looks like a goddamn Fornax pinup. She wants to fuck him through the mattress, _right now_.

"You better not come without me, you bastard," she growls, yanking a tunic and trousers on. Her annoyance only seems to encourage him; his hand moves over his rampant cock in a slow, teasing stroke. "Keep it up, Garrus, and I'll--"

"Shepard?"

She hears Anderson's voice come out of the terminal on her desk. Biting back another curse, she hurries around and drops down into her desk chair. "Sorry, Anderson. I just got back from Dobrovolski. Had to change."

"Chambers said you were getting cleaned up."

Shepard sighs. It's a shitty lie. Her hair is obviously mussed, her face still smudged with dirt. "I was about to hit the showers. Didn't get a chance."

"Right. Sorry to keep you from getting cleaned up, but I really need that debrief on what you found. The salarian councilor is breathing down my neck thanks to some rumor that it was salarians that hit the factory, and Altai Mineral Works is demanding payback, while the asari--."

Shepard glances up from the monitor as she listens to Anderson's woes, and it's a huge fucking mistake. Garrus's teasing has turned into a full-on effort to get himself off. She stares as he digs one foot into the mattress, hips coming up off the bed, one hand pumping his thick, curved cock while his other is curled into the gap between his guard plates.

"--anything you can give me would be good, Commander … Commander?"

Shepard jerks her attention back to the video screen. She can feel her face is flushed, hear her own breathing is too loud. She tries to regulate it, but that only makes her feel more obvious. "Yes. Right. It wasn't the salarians, not that I saw, anyway. Place was crawling with vorcha. Some looked like Blood Pack, but a lot more were--"

Garrus's flanging moan carries across the room. Shepard decides she's going to kill him as she trips over her next sentence. "--were not in uniform. If you ask me, there's uh, there's--" She crosses her legs; it's a mistake. Her crotch throbs. Garrus has his head thrown back now, hand moving faster and faster. Even from this far she can see the beginning hint of wetness dripping down the head of his cock. She suddenly wishes he was across the room with her, under her desk, his head between her--fuck, that doesn't help. She--

"You there, Shepard? Your signal just froze--"

She stutters back into motion like a hacked AI. "Sorry, Anderson, I'll have to get Chambers to check on this channel. We've been having some problems."

Anderson nods, but he looks suspicious. She tries to keep her gaze fixed to the terminal. "Anyway, as I was saying, I'm starting to wonder about all the recent vorcha movement. When we picked up Mordin--" She chokes slightly as Garrus's noises get louder, more regular. She tries to raise her voice to cover them. "When we picked up Mordin Solus, some of the vorcha there hinted that they'd been promised things by the Collectors. Which makes me wonder if they aren't working for the Collector's masters directly, now. I--"

Garrus is getting ready to come; she knows him, knows that way his breathing picks up, his voice hitches on two levels, his body tenses. And when he's this worked up, he's loud. She stands, abruptly, with a hasty, "One second, Anderson, sorry," blanks the screen, grabs the nearest thing at hand--one of the ship models--and hurls it across the room without thinking. She doesn't hit him, of course, but the crack of the model against the wall jerks him out of his rhythm. His eyes fly open and she narrows her own, before returning to her seat and taking the connection off hold.

"Everything all right, commander?" Anderson asks, looking slightly wide-eyed.

"Of course," she says, pleasantly. "Just one of the crew with bad timing. I'll get it sorted out after the call."

"Uh, right. Wouldn't think discipline would be a problem on your staff."

She smiles. "It's not. Anyway, I'm forwarding you our recorder data now. Maybe it'll cool off some of the hotheads you're dealing with."

"Thank you, Shepard."

"Not a problem. And if you don't mind--I really need to take care of a few things?"

"Of course. Good night, Commander."

She cuts off the call with a harder-than-necessary tap on the terminal.

"You," she says.

Garrus is still looking slightly stunned. He's got the ship model in his hands. "You could've hit me with this."

"I should've." She stalks towards him. "But since I missed, I think you still owe me for that little show."

His mandibles flare, and he chuckles. "C'mon, Shepard, you loved it. Anderson couldn't hear me."

She raises an eyebrow. "The whole crew of the Normandy probably heard you."

"My shot hasn't worn off yet," he says, lowering his voice, trying to seduce her out of her anger.

She climbs onto the mattress, stalking towards him like a wildcat. His eyes get slightly wild. "Um, Shepard, it was just a joke…? Shepard. … Shepard?"

She tackles him; in his confusion, he puts up half a fight. She pins him with her knees and elbows, presses his wrists down into the mattress. It's not any real confinement. If he wanted to, he could shake her off, but it's clear that he doesn't . She plants a hand in the middle of his chest and shoves him back into the pillows.

"You know," she says, "I should just cuff you to the bed and leave you like this while I go have a shower. Let you think about what you just did." She reaches down, strokes him slowly from base to tip, makes him hiss between clenched teeth, body straining. "Except I'm horny as hell. So I think--" she finds the last of the hypos Mordin's given them, injects herself with the anti-anaphylactic-- "I'll have to find other ways of making you pay."

She lowers over him, kisses his throat, and then down, along the ridge down the middle of his chest, over the flat laminal plating on his belly. She feels him shudder, and his eyes get wide. "Shepard, I don't--I don't know about this."

His cock has retracted, mostly, after her target practice, but he's still loose. She lowers her mouth to the join of his pubic plating and breathes softly. Wonders how much he can feel. Something, by the way he tenses, almost juddering.

She licks along the joint of the two pubic plates, the slightly raised lip of them. He tastes metallic under her tongue, almost like blood. The join is ever so slightly damp. She pushes the tip of her tongue along it, and the plates part slightly, allowing her in, allowing her to lick the slightly-rough skin of his growing, swelling cock underneath. He jerks as she does that, arching up off the bed. "Shepard!" he says again, fear under his voice, but lust, too, thickening that double-toned depth.

She uses her hands to part the plates further, spreading him open, and the tip of his cock pokes up between them. She laps at it like a cat, short licks, over the bullet-shaped head, along the slit. The beading liquid there is sweet, she finds, with surprise.

"Shepard," he whispers, and when she looks up, he's staring at her, his breath coming in sharp, short gasps.

She'll stop if he says so, she thinks, even though she doesn't want to, even though she already loves the remnant taste of him on her tongue, metal and skin and sweet.

"Please," he says instead, trembling.

She smiles and slides her mouth over him, gripping the base of him with one hand, swallowing him down. He's not as long as some humans she's been with, but he's thick and rougher and stranger shaped, odd against her lips and tongue. She's been trying to be careful with her teeth, given his qualms, but he's too thick, and her bottom teeth scrape the ridges shielding the big vein that runs along the underside of his cock; instead of panic, however, he groans, and she hears the tearing of her comforter as he rips into it with his free hand. She clamps her lips tighter around him, sucks hard, letting her blunt teeth scrape against him, loving the way he bucks and writhes under her. She remembers his hand dug down into the lower gap of his plate, slips her fingers there, finds the swell of his balls. Rubs her fingertips against them in slow circles as she bobs her head up and down, almost letting him slip out and then taking him deep, deep inside her.

She intended only to tease him, suck him off until he was nearly losing control, then fuck him; but she doesn't want to stop. Loves the way he's totally lost above her, moaning and twitching, his eyes rolled back into his head. She slips her fingers out from between his pubic plates and down between her thighs. Finds herself sopping wet, swollen and hot. Makes tighter and tighter circles over her clit as she picks up her pace, makes him shout her name, his hips pistoning under her, his hands coming to tangle fingers in her hair as he jerks once, twice, again and again, flooding her mouth with his hot, sweet, cum. He tastes good, so good, impossibly good; she moans herself, feeling a little of him slip over her bottom lip, as she fingerfucks herself to her own climax. She hears him hiccupping above her, trying to catch his breath, feels his eyes on her as she comes, hard, as hard as she ever has.

She lets him drag her upwards as the waves of her orgasm rock through her, as her body goes boneless, defenseless. Curls against him as he wraps an arm around her, pulls her to him.

"Even, now?" he murmurs.

"Even," she says. She smiles as he nuzzles his face against hers.


End file.
